


One Step At A Time

by sentencefragments



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Aangst, Angst, F/M, post breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentencefragments/pseuds/sentencefragments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with an itch. She didn’t even notice it at first, too entranced in whatever was displayed on her tablet. She wanted to share it with him, but he's not here || post 4x15 breakup</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step At A Time

It started with an itch. She didn’t even notice it at first, too entranced in whatever was displayed on her tablet. She’d thrown herself into work as a way of distracting herself from the emotional rollercoaster she’d been forced to ride. She didn’t think much of it, just reached over and scratched her bare foot, turquoise toenails a bright contrast to the way she was feeling lately. Her eyes remained glued to her tech.

It happened a second time, and a third, but it wasn’t until her tablet started beeping because of a low battery, her fingers still scratching her foot, that she realized she wasn’t supposed to be feeling the itch in the first place. She completely froze, breath getting stuck in her throat, her mind going a million miles an hour at the realization.

After a minute, she started breathing again, closing her eyes and telling herself that she was imagining things. The loft was quiet, the only sound her heart thumping in her chest, blood rushing through her ears and the soft sounds of the fireplace. This couldn’t be real, could it? This was like those occasions when people who lost a limb suddenly started feeling something in that limb, right? No, that wasn’t it. She hadn’t lost any of her extremities and the tiny chip embedded in her lower spine wasn’t put there for the sake of accessorizing. It had been two weeks since the procedure and according to Curtis she should be seeing results by now.

Felicity put her tablet on the side table next to the sofa and pulled the soft grey blanket off of her legs. Pushing her glasses up on her nose she reached over, running her fingers over her feet in a non-descript pattern. She tried to focus on her breathing, the sensation of her nails scratching over her skin a strange sensation after months of numbness. Sitting back up, she bit her lower lip and frowned as she tried to focus on getting her toes to move. Have them do something.

She sat like that for minutes. She could’ve been trying to make her laptop float over to her and nobody would be able to tell. Nothing happened. It was strange, trying to make a part of your body move and it just wouldn’t. The tears welled up in her eyes. She hated feeling like this. Her legs nothing more than a useless extension of her body.

No, she couldn’t just give up. Maybe the chip was working a little slower than calculated. That was a reasonable explanation, right? She shouldn’t be ungrateful it was. If it was working at all.

Felicity closed her eyes and straightened her back, rolling her shoulder blades back and forth and taking a deep breath. She focused on remember how it felt to flex her toes to the beat of a song, adjusting them in a tight shoe and spreading them to paint her toenails. Something in her foot tightened, it felt almost like spasm. Felicity’s eyes flew open. It was barely a twitch in her big toe on her right foot but she was doing it. She was moving.

Instantly, her head whipped around, looking around the loft, excitement and relief in her eyes, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips. That happiness immediately faded away when she realized he wasn’t here.

The queen sized bed and the trunk of her clothes shoved in the far corner of the loft a painful reminder that he wasn’t here to come home to anymore. He wasn’t here to carry her up the stairs at night and down in the morning. He wasn’t here to cuddle with, to hold her at night. He wasn’t here for her to love. He wasn’t here for anything anymore.

Her eyes fell to her ring-less finger, tears dripping down her cheek. Oliver had refused to make her move out of the loft. It was wheelchair friendly -everything she needed from upstairs was moved downstairs- and because he blamed himself for hurting her he didn’t think he deserved it. He went back to sleeping on a cot in the lair. Without him, living in the loft was awful. The space felt cold and empty, but she didn’t exactly have a lot of options and selling the place felt too permanent, too soon.

She knew Oliver still dropped by sometimes when she was at work. The Tupperware filled with some form of sustenance he put in the fridge every other day the evidence. Detailed preparation instructions scribbled on a note in his messy handwriting taped to the lid. Unsigned, but there was no doubt they came from Oliver. When they’d had a rough night in the Lair she usually found some of her favorite dishes or some extra dessert in her fridge the next morning. That didn’t make the separation any easier.

At least she didn’t have to worry about Curtis’s bio-stimulation chip working too slow because she wasn’t going to walk down the aisle anymore.

 

`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••._.• two weeks later •._.••`¯´´•.¸¸.•`

 

He dreamt about her. A lot. Almost every night. She always looked so happy and carefree, so unlike how she’d looked at him when she called off their engagement. Her bright pink lips pulled into a wide grin, blue eyes sparkling with joy. She was standing, walking, dancing, twirling in her white dress, looking like an angel as her blonde curls bounced around her shoulders, making his heart clench. Some nights she was standing right in front of him, her hands in his and her eyes boring into his soul. "I do."  She’d say, gleaming with pride. Some nights she was standing at the end of the aisle, taking step after step towards him. Some nights he was watching her dance, with a different partner each time, but it didn't matter because the shiny gold ring on her finger mean she was his. She’d look over her shoulder and smile at him and somehow that was enough. The worst part was how real it all felt and then waking up the next morning in the cold and empty foundry, without her warm body next to him to curl around.

Some nights she was in his arms, smiling at him one second, and the next her dress was  stained red as her knees buckled underneath her, eyes rolling into the back of her head.,warm blood sticking to his fingers as he cradled her close to his chest, begging her to stay with him. Those nights were the hardest. He’d wake up drenched in sweat, heart aching for her touch, reassurance that she was still here, alive and breathing. But she wasn't. She was alive and breathing, but not here. Not at his side where she belonged. She was at home in the loft while he was tossing and turning on his cot.  It wasn't supposed to be like this. He never meant to hurt her. He'd just wanted to protect his son. She had every right to be upset with him. Lies are a terrible foundation for a marriage.

Her ring felt cold against his sternum where it hung from a silver necklace. He kept it with him at all times, just in case. he was well aware of how pathetic that was. Wiping the sweat off of his brow with his shirt he clutched the piece of jewelry in his hand.

"Come back to me, Felicity,"  he begged whatever entity that would hear him, "I can't do this without you."

 

`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••._.• six weeks later •._.••`¯´´•.¸¸.•`

 

Damien Darhk is dead. Oliver killed him. Because Felicity asked him to. There was no other way. The lair is empty except for the two of them. It's been days since anyone has had a good night’s sleep and the exhaustion was taking a toll on everyone. After the short-lived celebration Diggle eagerly went home to his family and Laurel and Thea moved out quickly too. Leaving just the two of them. They were silent for a long time after the elevator door slipped shut, not even looking at each other. they didn't have to. They knew each other too well.

Felicity’s still mad at him, but she’s beginning to see his point of view. Samantha gave him an ultimatum all those months ago and Oliver did what he thought was the best way to handle the situation. It doesn’t excuse his actions; he hurt her by keeping such a big thing from her. A child. His child. If they would’ve married when they’d planned to William would now be her step-son and she wouldn’t even know he existed. She’s glad the truth came out, no matter how much pain it caused. She knows it’s for the better, but her heart still broke and she’s still trying to pick up the pieces.

They’re nowhere near getting back together, but if there’s one thing she’s learned this past year is that there’s always hope. There has to be. Oliver found his way back to her from under the League’s thumb, and she’s even starting to regain feeling in her legs even though at least a dozen doctors told her she was permanently paralyzed. There’s always hope so she she’s not going to give up now. She’s not going to give up on them. Her mother was right. They had something that was beyond love. A true partnership. Something most people only dream about.

When William got taken, she’d seen the way Oliver cared for his son. The anger in his eyes when Damien told them what he’d done. The defeat when all their leads turned into dead ends. Just thinking about it made her heart ache. The need to touch him, to comfort him quite overwhelming. They got William back, unharmed and Samantha and Oliver sat him down to tell him Oliver was his father. Felicity cried watching the young boy wrap his arms around her fiancé’s neck, Oliver immediately returning the hug. Looking down at her hand she’d sighed, slowly slipping the ring off of her finger.

Her hands moved to the push rims of her wheelchair on their own accord. Taking a deep breath, she slowly made her way over to where Oliver was leaning against her desk. His arms uncrossed from over his chest as he looked up at her, eyes full of questions and hope. Her gaze met his and a tiny smile tugged at her lips before she reached for his hand. She was extending him an olive branch. Looking down at her feet, she focused on lifting them off the footrest. Oliver immediately jumped into action when her foot moved, pushing off the desk and stepping closer to help her if she needed it. She squeezed his hand reassuringly before her left foot joined her right on the foundry floor. Suddenly, she was really glad she decided not to wear heels that day. She hadn’t advanced that much yet, but the physical therapy combined with Curtis’s chip made sure she was improving every day.

Without a word, Oliver helped pull her up out of her chair until she was standing straight and proud in front of him. She was even tinier next to him without her heels, forehead barely reaching his shoulder. He was hesitant to let her go, scared that she would fall, but Felicity looked up, determination in her eyes and nodded slowly. She was standing on her own, something she’d only been dreaming of a few weeks ago. He wanted to say something, his mouth opening and closing again, because the words wouldn’t come out. Her hands in his tightened in reassurance, her gaze never leaving his. Oliver’s breath hitched as he let out a sigh of relief and happiness. Felicity’s smile brightened, happy tears welling up in her eyes. Letting go of one of his hands, she reached up to cup his cheek. Oliver responded by leaning down and pressing his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, letting the silent tears slip out over his cheeks. Felicity took a deep breath, wordlessly wiping away the wetness on his skin with her thumb before leaning against him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her as tightly as he dared.

The next time Oliver woke up from a nightmare Felicity was right beside him.


End file.
